Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1887-07-01
SAIN1E CATHERINE.

Sainte GATHERINGS Day, the iron gate OF
the prison at Auberive rolled back on its
hinges and gave passage to woman OF
about 80 years of age. She was dressed
in faded wooden gown and wore ON her
head a white linen cap, adjusted in strange
fashion round her pale features, whose
wan expression betrayed long detention
and meager fare. Her fellow prisoners
had nicknamed her the Bretonne, no
doubt because she was native OF Brittany
Condemned for the heinous crime OF In
fanticide, she had been brought to the
house of detention in a prison van exactly
six years ago, and had just been set free,
having served her time.
After getting back her old clothes and
receiving at the greffe or registry the
ridiculously small sum of money set aside
for her by the prison authorities in return
for six long years of unremitting hard la
Dor, she was now at last once more free,
with her passport signed for Langres.
The coach, however, for this latter place
had already left. Timid and awkward,
she directed her faltering steps towards
the nearest inn, and with tremu1ous
voice inquired if she could be accommo-
dated for the night. The inn was crowded
with customers, and the inn keeper, who
little cared to house 'sbirds of that feath-
er," advised her to push on to the wine
shop at the other end of the village.
The Bretonne, more awkward and tim
i'd than before, went on her way and
knocked at the door of the wine shop,
mere pot house for navvies. The publ
cans wife eyed her mistrustfully from
head to foot, and guessing that she had
just left the Centrale, or prison, sent her
off with the excuse that she. did not take
in dodgers. Not daring to insist, the poor
woman turned away with dropping head,
while feeling of anger rose in her heart
against those who thus drove her from
their door.
She had only one thing left to do, and
that was to reach Langres on foot. Night
however, sets in early toward the close of
November, so that darkness soon overlook
the wayfarer on the dusky road, that ex-
tended far away through the lonesome
wood, and the north wind blew keen
among the swaying trees, scattering large
heaps of dead leaves by the way. During
the six long years she had spent in soil
tary confinement the Bretonne had lost
the habit of walking Her joints were as
if knotted, and her feet, unused to any
but wooden shoes, were cramped in the
leather ones she had on. After getting
over league or so of ground her heels
were sorely blistered and she felt already
tired out She sank down on heap OF
stones, shuddering at the thought that
she might have to die of cold aid hunger,
in such a dark night and with such nip
ping HAST that chilled her to the bone.
Suddenly, along the solitary road, and
in the pauses of the cold north wind, she
thought she heard the drawing tones OF
somebody singing in the distance. She
that she caught the sound of one of those
dear, monotonous snatches of nursery
rhymes with which children are nursed to
sleep. Rising to her feet she went in the
direction of the voice, and at the turn OF
a cross road beheld red light glimmering
through the branches. Five minutes after
she reached clay built howell, the roof Of
which, covered with clods, leaned against
a rock, and whose only window gave pas
sage to a Pickering ray. With anxious
heart she resolved to knock at the door.
AS soon as she had done so the singing
ceased and a peasant woman came to the
threshold.
She was OF about the same age as the
Bretonne, but worn and wasted with field
labor Her short gown, which was rent
in places, showed her dark, sunburnt
skin; her reddish hair fell in disorder
from underneath a little cloth cap and her
gray eyes looked with establishment at
the stranger, whose face had, in fact,
something unusual in its pallid expression.
"Good evening" said the peasant wo-
man, raising the lamp she held in her,
hand; "what do you wantN
''I am ready to drop and can go no
further" murmured the Bretonne with
sigh of deep anguish; ''the town is yet faI
Lot bapa for
the night 'twould be real blessing. I've
money and would gladly pay you for
your trouble
'tCome in.'' said the peasant, without
much hesitation "but," she added, more
out of curiosity than from any mistrust,
'swhy didn't you stop at Auberive?'
ssThey wouldn't take me in" she an
swered And, casting down her blue
eyes, the Bretonne, as from sense OF
duty, added: Because, you see, I've just
left the Centrale and that doesn't give
people confidence
''Ah! Well, come in all the same. I've
little to fear any way, never having had
anything but misery for my lot. 1t would
be unreasonable to leave a Christian out
of doors in such cold weather. I'll make
you up bed with a strewing of heather"
The peasant woman went to a shed and
brought n several armfuls of d,y heath,
which she spread in a corner near the
chimney place.
s'You live alone here?' ventured to ask
the Bretonne.
eyes, with my little girl, who is near
Upon 7. 1 earn for both of us by work
ing in the wood"
9'Your man is dead, then?'
IT never had one," bluntly rejoined La
M. lo rir1 foil
Well, you know, we all have our troubles.
There's your bed now, and here are two
or three potatoes which were left from
supper TITS all / have to offer you''
She was interrupted by childish voice,
which came from behind plank partition
forming kind of dark closet in one of the
corners of the place.
''Good nights added La Fleuriotte.
''I'll be looking after the little one, who's
getting scared. Try to sleep well!''
She took the lamp and sought the adj
joining closet, leaving the Bretonne in the
dark
The latter had stretched herself on the
sweet heather. After eating her frugal
meal she tried to close her eyes, but sleep
would not come to their tired lids.
Through the partition boards she heard
La Fleuriotte chattering in low voice to
her little one, who had been Weakened by
the arrival of the stranger and would not
go to sleep again. La Fleuriotte fondled
and coaxed and kissed her darling with
endearing Words the artless expression of
wlkch moved the poor Bretonne in an mn
wonted manner. 1t summoned up con-
fused maternal instinct still slumbering
in the breast of one who had been con-
demned for sitting her new born babe.
She was alive to the fact that, if things
chad not turned out badly" her own
little one would now be about as old as
that little girl.
Amotherly yearning rose in her beating
heart. Her feelings, so long chilled, were
reused to their inmost depths by this
haunting thought and the sound OF that
sweet childish voice; melting softness
spread throughout her being, and she had
good mind to give way to tears.
''Now, my darling" said La Fleuriotte,
ego to sleep like good girl, and if you'd
I'll take you tomorrow to Sainte ~Cathe-
rine's fair.''
"Sainte Catherine is the festival for lit
tie girls, isn't it, maa1ma?''
eyes, my dear.i'
els it true chat on that day Sainte Cath
crime brings pretty toys to children p
"a es, sometimes"